


Twenty Seconds of Insane Courage

by BeckyBubbles



Category: Anne of Green Gables (TV 1985) & Related Fandoms, Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: A little fluffy, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Prom Night, aged down Bash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:07:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26053960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeckyBubbles/pseuds/BeckyBubbles
Summary: "You know, sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage. Just literally twenty seconds of just embarrassing bravery. And I promise you, something great will come of it." Benjamin MeexAs prom approaches Avonlea High, Gilbert Blythe is determined to ask Anne Shirley-Cuthbert.All he needs is the courage to do it.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 39
Kudos: 194





	Twenty Seconds of Insane Courage

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there,
> 
> I was compelled to write this from a little spark of inspiration from a One Direction song (if you're curious, it was 'loved you first') coupled with this lovely quote from Benjamin Mee.
> 
> It was written in one day and edited in a few hours so it's not perfect but I hope you enjoy it all the same x

A highly contagious pandemic swept through the corridors of Avonlea High School, the senior class especially susceptible to the symptoms; clammy hands and a shortness of breath, fits of excitement and stuttering words.

Avonlea High School had an incurable case of prom fever; the hallways lined with midnight blue and yellow posters inviting the senior class to ‘ _A Night Under the Stars’,_ the girls gushing over dresses and who they wished to ask, the boys mustering up the nerve to approach them and then losing it at the final hurdle, intimidated by the gaggle of girls who giggled as they neared.

Nobody was exempt from the excitement, not even Gilbert Blythe whose stomach knotted nervously when he thought about prom, his breath catching in his throat and the word’s dying on his lips every time he attempted to broach the subject with Anne, who sat opposite him now, at their table in the library, her flame-red hair piled messily on the top of her head in an untidy knot, a pencil twisted into the waves to secure it, her glasses slanted on her nose as she propped her chin in her hand.

He smiled gently as he watched her study, her mouth moving soundlessly as she scanned the notes before her. Her side of the desk was disorganised; the contents of her pencil case strewn onto the tabletop, textbooks flung open haphazardly, sheets of lined paper scattered chaotically. Her space reflected her brain; her thoughts random and unordered. She was a messy soul, but kind, and Gilbert loved her desperately.

Gilbert wasn’t sure when his feelings for Anne had changed; when his boyish crush on his lab partner developed into something deeper for his friend. When the warm glow of embers that sparked in his stomach when she was near caught, a raging inferno blazing inside him, Anne’s name branded on his heart. 

And that was why he found the question he wanted so desperately to ask her too difficult to say, the words dying on his lips as he attempted to say them. It was a weighted question; a proposition that he feared would betray his feelings for her, Anne’s eyes searching his and seeing the love for her that was hidden in them. He always wore his heart on his sleeve, his father told him that, and he felt transparent in front of Anne. She knew him better than anyone else; she knew he was nervous when his hand found his neck or that he was tense when his jaw clenched, her hand finding his cheek and her touch softening the muscle under his skin. He knew that she would read between the lines and understand what he was really trying to say; translating “Will you go to prom with me?” to mean “I think I’m in love with you.”

“Twenty seconds,” his father had said to him the night before as Gilbert sat at the kitchen table, shrinking with embarrassment as he told his dad about his most recent failed attempt to ask her, walking her to the gate of Green Gables and bouncing nervously on his toes as she eyed him expectantly, Gilbert flustered and blurting, “See you tomorrow then,” before scurrying away.

“What does that mean?” he asked with a roll of his eyes.

“That’s all it takes. Twenty seconds of insane courage and I promise you, something great will come of it.”

Gilbert had nodded, pondering on his father’s advice. Twenty seconds. That was all. Two short bursts of ten seconds. Four periods of five. When you broke it down like that, it seemed completely feasible and not at all terrifying. He was sure he could muster enough bravery for twenty seconds to ask her what he wanted to; the words bursting from his chest and lingering in the air around them. And something great could come of it. What if she felt the same? What if the way her eyes lingered on him a beat too long or how her spine stiffened under his touch meant she returned his feelings? What if twenty glorious seconds of embarrassing courage meant that they both could take a step forward together, their hands stretching across the gap between them and entwining in the middle instead of hanging at their sides like they had done before, fingers twitching tentatively, desperate to reach for the other’s?

He felt bolstered by his father’s words, determined to try once more. And the sooner he did the better, especially after he heard rumours from Bash that Roy Gardner had his eye on Anne after his recent break-up with Winifred Rose; Bash pulling him roughly under the stairs in the crowded hallway and whispering in a hushed voice, “You’ll need to ask her quick, Blythe, before that Edward Cullen wannabe does.”

Roy Gardner was the Hollywood starlet of Avonlea High School; he walked amongst the others like a god, his hair ebony and his eyes a mystical grey. All of the girls found his dashingly handsome and Gilbert knew Anne was no different.

He sucked in a sharp breath, his pen tapping against his notebook as he watched Anne wet the tip of her finger with her tongue, swiping to the next page of her textbook.

“Why are you staring at me?” Anne asked, glancing up at him over the tortoiseshell rim of her glasses, a questioning furrow to her face as she shifted under his gaze.

“I’m not,” he replied, pulling his eyes from her and back to his notes. The respiratory system; could he not have picked something that didn’t remind him of the fact that his heart was pounding, hammering against his ribs so loudly he was worried she would hear it echoing in the stuffy silence of the library. “I was just wondering what you were reading,” he lied.

“Same as you, dummy,” she laughed, lifting her textbook and poking her tongue out at him playfully, a snort of laughter bursting from Gilbert’s throat.

“Shh.” They glanced towards the hissing librarian, glowering at them from over the rim of her round glasses.

“Sorry,” Anne whispered to her before turning back to Gilbert, their gazes locking as they shook silently with laughter. They were the most studious in the senior class although always found themselves being shushed crossly by Mrs Phillips who sulked as she watched them place their books onto the corner table that had become theirs, her long fingers jabbing at a make-shift sign that had appeared after she had reprimanded them for being too loud for the third time.

“You’re distracting me,” Gilbert whispered crossly, although his face was split with a grin. Anne shrugged, watching as he cast his eyes upwards and began to regurgitate his notes from memory. “Oxygenated blood flows from the lungs through the pulmonary vein, passing through the left atrium and into the left ventricle through the mitral valve.”

Anne smirked as she watched him, leaning forward onto her elbows.

“Hey,” she whispered to him, her cheeks glowing pink as she grinned mischievously. “Are you a preventricular contraction? Because you make my heart skip a beat.”

He stared at her, his mouth falling open as she dissolved into giggles, stuffing her knuckles into her mouth to stifle her laughter.

“Was that a _pick-up line?”_ he asked, a smirk quirking at the corner of his mouth as he watched the apples of her cheeks glow pink, her eyes shining mischievously.

She nodded. “It was good, wasn’t it? I knew it would render you speechless. My superior flirting.” She brushed her nails against her flannel, jokingly inspecting them before her face fell, the smile slipping from her lips as she realised what she had just said. Her head jerked towards Gilbert and she swallowed thickly when she noticed him stare back, his lips parted slightly, his eyes fixed on her, the honey warmed hazel heating her stomach, triggering a tingle that zinged across the surface of her skin and tingled down her spine. She felt her heartbeat spike, racing irrhythmically. _Preventricular contractions._

“Or what about this one?” she blurted, hoping another corny joke would disguise the mistake she had made, her accidental admittance to having been flirting with him; the air around them heavy, charged with something unsaid. “Are you a coronary artery? Because you’re wrapped around my heart.”

Gilbert let out a strangled laugh. It had been a joke. Of course, it had been a joke. She would never have been so bold or forward. Especially not with him.

And yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that her voice was a little forced, higher than normal, her laugh louder than it needed to be to cover for her slip of the tongue.

He swallowed back, chuckling breathily. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any nerdier.”

Her lips curved into a small smile; her hands clasped self-consciously on her lap as her gaze dropped to her notes once more.

This was it, Gilbert thought. It was time to ask her; to say it out loud and face the consequences. He wanted to take her. He wanted to share prom night with her, to hold her in his arms as they danced. He wanted to kiss her on her porch afterwards and allow her to know the intensity of his feelings in full.

Twenty seconds of insane courage. That’s all it took.

“Anne,” he whispered, his hands clamped to his knees as he leant across the table. She shot a glance at him from under her lashes. He had a strangled look to his face, earnest yet terrified. She felt her stomach explode in a flurry of butterflies. 

“Yes,” she breathed, her eyes locked to his, her heart beat wild.

He laughed breathily, a short laugh that ripped from his chest. He glanced down at his books briefly before meeting her eyes again.

“Aorta ask you something,” he joked and Anne huffed a laugh, her heart lurching forwards, wondering what the delay was. If this was about prom, her answer was yes. It would always be yes.

“Hello, Anne.”

Anne and Gilbert’s gazes tore from each other, jerking upwards to see Roy Gardner at the side of their desk, towering over them, his eyes resting on Anne, a wolfish smile on his handsome face.

“Roy,” she greeted, a polite smile curving her mouth.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything but I wanted to speak with you,” he stated, throwing a look at Gilbert before jerking his head towards the door that led to the corridor. “In private.”

Anne stared at him, the fizzle of excitement that bubbled in her stomach transforming into a sickly sense of dread. It was a truth universally acknowledged that the newly single golden boy of Avonlea High was in need of a prom date but Anne wished that prom date wasn’t her. She knew who she wanted to ask her and she had a sneaking suspicion he had just been interrupted doing it.

“Sure,” Anne answered stiffly. “Could you give me one moment?”

Roy shrugged indifferently, taking a step back from their table, loitering by a bookstand displaying classic literature titles. He hovered close enough that Gilbert felt their conversation could still be overheard by him, Roy shooting side-long stares their way, his tall frame casting a looming shadow between them.

Anne fixed her gaze back on Gilbert, noting the change in his posture, his shoulders slouched defeatedly, the honey glazed warmth in his eyes diminished to a dull slate grey as he stared at his books.

“What did you want to ask me?” she pressed, her hand shooting out desperately and falling on top of his books, disturbing him from his thoughts. He stared at her hand splayed against his biology notes, his eyes trailing up her arm slowly, flitting over her collarbone and resting on her face, something wild in her expression. It confounded him, her large round eyes ablaze with urgency for him to finish what he had begun to verbalise.

He glanced towards Roy who watched them from where he stood, an eyebrow quirked amusedly, his arms folded across his chest as he smirked.

Gilbert shook his head. The moment had passed, his bravery seized by Roy’s intimidating presence; his tiger-like eyes flickering between them. He had lost his nerve and he was certain he had lost Anne too.

He reached across the desk, lifting a pen from the clutter that encircled her. “I was just wondering if I could borrow this pen?”

“Oh.” Anne nodded although she felt her shoulders slump defeatedly. Of course, he wasn’t going to ask her. He was her friend. He would always only be her friend. She wasn’t sure why she had ever entertained the thought that he might have felt differently.

She nodded solemnly, rising from her seat and following Roy from their cosy corner of the library and out into the hallway, swallowing back the bitter taste of disappointment that flooded her senses, pooling on the tip of her tongue. Gilbert had so many opportunities to ask her to prom if he had have wanted, she thought, throwing a longing gaze back over her shoulder towards him, his body slumped against the desk and his head buried in his arms. He obviously didn’t want to share the night with her. She would have to accept Roy, she decided resignedly. 

She stilled in the hallway, leaning against the wall as Roy crowded her space, his arm bracketing her head as he scratched at the light stubble of his jaw, glancing at her under his lashes in what she thought must have been an imitation of a smouldering look. 

“I was wondering,” he began and he reached his hand out, holding Anne’s loosely between his clammy fingers, “if you would come to prom with me?”

Anne stared at him, his mouth parted slightly, a toothy grin on his face. He was handsome, she thought; his cheekbones high and sharp, his lips full and his eyes a mysterious, silvery grey. He had the debonair air of an old Hollywood actor, his voice low and drawling, and she couldn’t ignore the longing stares he received from other girls as they passed the in the hallway; their mouths rounding in shock when they noticed Anne Shirley-Cuthbert pinned to the wall with him.

Anne wouldn’t get a better offer than Roy. Nobody else was willing to ask her. She would be a fool to turn him down. 

“Yes,” Anne answered, nodding determinedly. “I will go with you.”

Roy beamed brightly.

“Cool,” he drawled, although Anne noticed he was distracted, his head tilted slightly, his eyes focussed on a point further down the hall. Anne followed his gaze, freezing when she spotted Winnie standing ten paces from them, her pretty features soured with a scowl.

Roy’s gaze remained fixed on her as he lifted Anne’s hand to his lips, pressing a wet kiss to her skin before dropping her hand coldly, Winnie turning sharply on her heel and storming up the hallway.

Anne could feel bile rising from her stomach. This was a _game,_ she realised. Roy hadn’t asked her because he _wanted_ to. He asked her because he was determined to use her as some sort of weapon to inflict pain on his ex-lover. She flushed angrily, hot tears burning behind her eyes. This was _humiliating._ If Gilbert had have just done what she expected him to. If he had have cared enough about her to ask her…

“I have work to do, Roy,” she announced, her words clipped. Roy slowly dragged his eyes from Winnie, his body drawing back from Anne as he shrugged lightly.

“Sure. Whatever,” he answered, his tone blasé. “I’ll see you around.”

He sloped down the hallway in the direction Winnie had disappeared, Anne flushing with hot embarrassment, her stomach roiling with nausea; she felt uncomfortable with this arrangement.

Anne stormed back into the library, the door clattering closed behind her noisily, Mrs Phillips head shooting up from where it was stooped behind her desk.

“Shh,” she hissed snipingly.

Anne ignored her; her gaze fixed on Gilbert who eyed her questioningly as she approached. She dropped heavily into her seat and began to pack away her things, groaning with frustration as the zipper on her pencil case caught.

“What did Roy want?” he prompted and Anne scoffed. What was he asking her that for? They both knew what he wanted the second he had approached their desk.

“He asked me to prom,” she retorted curtly, wiggling at the zip forcefully.

“You’re going with him then?” he asked, his voice low.

Anne slammed her pencil case against the tabletop, her eyes snapping to his, startled to see sadness swirl in them, the colour dull and murky.

“Yes,” she snapped, her voice ripping from within her much sharper than she had intended.

Gilbert visibly flinched. He swallowed thickly, his heart constricting tightly in his chest; long, phantom-like fingers curling around the muscle and squeezing it forcefully. “Right,” he murmured, dropping his gaze from her, his brow softening and his eyes sad; a muddy brown streaked with grey. He breathed out a sharp little laugh, his mouth quirking into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m happy for you, Anne,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, edged with something that sounded like despondency to Anne, reverberating around her.

How dare he? Anne thought. How dare he sit there with that mournful look on his face? She had been waiting for him to ask and he didn’t, yet he had the temerity to sit before her with an expression that made her heart feel like it was aching.

He had hurt her. She shouldn’t have had to be made feel bad about it.

“Well, it’s not like I had any other option, is it?” she barked, her hands slamming against the desk as she pushed herself to her feet, collecting her books into her arms and turning from him, pacing across the threadbare carpet and out towards the corridor.

“Anne,” Gilbert called after her, springing to his feet and watching her disappear through the door into the bustling hallway.

He gathered his books hastily, fumbling as he dropped one to the floor, and cracking is head painfully against the corner of the desk as he bent to pick it up.

“Fuck,” he groaned, rubbing at the tender spot of skin.

“Mr Blythe,” Mrs Phillips called, standing staunchly behind her desk and beckoning him to her with a finger.

He sighed resolutely, certain he was about to face the wrath of Mrs Phillips, her expression thunderous as he approached her desk.

“Read that,” she snapped, her bony finger jabbing at a makeshift sign taped to the wall beside her desk.

“No talking. No laughing. No swearing,” Gilbert read dully.

“You’ve had a hattrick today, Mr Blythe. I gave you a warning.”

She ripped a pink detention slip from her book, her pen scratching against it as she filled in his details before thrusting it towards him.

Gilbert sighed, snatching the slip from her and skulking into the hallway.

Twenty seconds of insane courage that gained him nothing but a detention slip.

**********

Sebastian Lacroix sat on a soft, lumpy armchair in his best friend’s sitting room, his eyes fixed on Gilbert who lay across the sofa, his feet crossed at the ankle, one hand tucked behind his head as he stared at the ceiling despairingly. He had called him just an hour before, his voice hurried as he told him about the events of the day; Roy Gardner turning up by their table and asking Anne to accompany him to prom.

Bash sighed as he listened to Gilbert ramble through the phone, his voice rushed and desperate. “Sit tight, Blythe. I’ll be over soon.”

Bash was supposed to be at his girlfriend’s this evening, Mary excitedly telling him she had picked her prom dress and wanted him to see it, but he knew she would understand. Gilbert couldn’t hide his feelings for Anne well; his expressive eyes always revealing more than he intended.

“Are Anne and Gil together then?” Mary had asked as Bash drove her home the first night she had met them.

Bash chuckled. “He wishes,” he quipped and Mary nodded thoughtfully, her lips pursed.

“But he’s in love with her, right?”

“You are crazily clever, have I ever told you that?”

Mary and Gilbert became fast friends; Mary, who was a few months older than Gilbert, mothering him and coaching him through the bungled interactions he had with Anne.

“She likes you,” she told him plainly one day, Gilbert shaking his head vehemently.

“Not a chance of that,” he argued.

“You’re a fool, Gilbert Blythe,” Mary had laughed in response.

Bash wished Mary was with him today. She had a quick wit and was intuitive; much better at this sort of thing than Bash was. He himself was clumsy and a little impulsive when it came to girls but he knew one thing; if you were serious about your feelings for someone, you had to let them know, despite how terrifying the prospect of a rejection could be.

“Why am I like this, Bash?” Gilbert asked, his eyes trained to the bronze lighting fixture that hung overhead.

“Because you’re a lovesick fool?” Bash quipped, earning a breathy laugh and a smile as a reward for his joke. “A pathetic moke?” he continued, watching Gilbert snap upright, swinging his legs over the side of the sofa and burying his face in his hands. “A chicken?

“Okay, okay. I’m stupid, I get it.”

“Well, at least you’re aware of it. That’s half the battle.”

Gilbert chuckled, drawing his hands from his face and sinking back into the soft padding of the sofa.

“I was so close. She was right there and…” he groaned, throwing his head backwards as his hands dragged down his face roughly. “What am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t think there’s much you can do, Blythe. You can’t change her mind. Just let it be.” Gilbert nodded slowly, biting at his bottom lip distractedly. “You could always just ask someone else?”

“I can’t do that!” Gilbert startled, his eyes widening as he stared at Bash. “I couldn’t watch them together. It would hurt too much.”

“Fine then. You’ve made that decision. Just let it go.”

They lapsed into silence once more, Bash eyeing Gilbert as he picked at a thread on the hem of his t-shirt. There were three months between Bash and Gilbert and yet sometimes it felt like so much more. Bash was confident in himself, accepting of his short-comings and striving to make himself a better man, while Gilbert was still awkward and insecure; bumbling through conversations with Anne, flummoxed when he felt she had become too close, analysing everything she said and wondering what she had meant by it. Bash was tired of telling him to let her know how he felt. He never listened anyway, despite Bash being sure his feelings were reciprocated.

A rattle at the door, keys being dropped onto the side-board and heavy boots pacing down the hall, distracted Bash from his thoughts, John Blythe pushing the door open and peeking his head around it to spot his son leaning back in his chair, a pensive look on his face.

He glanced at Bash who rolled his eyes and shook his head, John nodding in understanding. Anne. It was always Anne when he was in a mood like this.

“So, it didn’t happen today then, son?” he asked Gilbert, moving across the room and dropping onto the sofa beside him. “What happened to twenty seconds of insane courage?”

“Roy Gardner happened,” Gilbert mumbled, his face buried in his hands.

“Well, never mind,” John soothed, patting his son’s leg comfortingly. “There’s always tomorrow.”

“There’s not tomorrow, Dad,” Gilbert explained. “She’s going with Roy Gardner. It’s done.”

Gilbert was still confused at Roy’s arrival at their table. It seemed random and unprompted. He couldn’t remember Anne ever mentioning them speak, although he knew they shared classes. He didn’t realise they were friends and yet Roy wished to spend such a special evening, what was supposed to be the pinnacle of their senior year, with her. Gilbert didn’t know why but it made him feel uneasy; suspicion settling in his chest, laying low in his stomach and causing it to roil with nausea.

“Who’s next then?” his father asked, drawing Gilbert from his thoughts. He ran his hand over his face, shaking his head wearily.

“I’m not going,” he answered. “I couldn’t watch her with someone else.”

John nodded slowly. He hated to see Gilbert like this; surrendering himself to a lonely night when he should be having fun with his friends. He was a quiet boy, often serious, and John enjoyed seeing him relax and have fun while he was still able to.

“Why don’t we do something then, eh?” John asked, a grin on his face as he glanced between Gilbert and Bash. “A boy’s night like we used to when you were younger?”

Bash laughed heartily. “Thank you for the invitation, Mr Blythe, but I don’t think Mary would be too happy if I stood her up.”

“True enough,” John laughed. He sometimes forgot that the boys were growing up; their gangly limbs filling out, the roundness of their cheeks narrowing into the faces of young men. Both of them in love, with varying levels of success. “What about you, Gil? A night at the drive-in cinema with your old man for old times’ sake?”

Gilbert laughed lightly. He loved spending time with his father, John always knowing what to do to cheer him up. “Sounds good.”

“Now, about Anne,” his dad pressed. “Maybe it’s time you tell her how you feel?”

“No.” Gilbert shook his head wildly.

“Yes,” Bash insisted. “Be a man about it.”

“We’ve had a fight!” he argued, although he wasn’t sure why. Anne had stormed off before he had a chance to follow her, disappearing into the crowded hallway. He hadn’t seen her since.

“Then go to her and apologise,” John ordered plainly.

“But I don’t know what I did.”

“Apologise anyway,” John encouraged. “Trust me, Gilbert. If a woman is angry and you don’t know why, it’s most likely your fault. Apologise.”

Gilbert bit his lip nervously, picturing himself walking to Anne’s door, his knuckles hovering uncertainly before he knocked. He imagined himself bouncing anxiously on his toes as he waited for her to answer and when she did, she would scowl, slamming the door closed again before he could explain himself.

“She’s not going to want to see me,” he sighed resignedly.

“You don’t know that for sure, Blythe,” Bash answered, getting to his feet and brushing the creases from the knees of his jeans. “Like Mr Blythe says, it only takes twenty seconds.”

**********

Anne sighed as Marilla and Rachel Lynde prodded at her, nipping at the material around her waist and roughly securing it, Anne’s skin punctured with the miniscule pinheads that had pierced her flesh.

It had been a few hours since Roy had asked her to prom and she had been caught in a flurry of feigned excitement since then; Ruby squeaking excitedly as she told her friends Roy Gardner had asked her to prom with a forced smile, omitting the fact that she felt she was only a pawn in a plan to wreak revenge on Winifred.

Diana and Cole shared knowing looks, the corners of Diana’s lips down-turning, Cole’s brow furrowing confusedly.

“I thought Gilbert would have asked you,” Diana pondered aloud and Anne huffed exasperatedly.

“Clearly not if I’m going with Roy.”

“I don’t understand Gilbert sometimes,” Cole mused. “I mean, he _clearly_ has a crush on you, Anne. What is he waiting for?”

Anne’s head snapped to Cole, her eyes rounded and her mouth falling open with shock.

“No, he doesn’t!” she argued aimlessly, Cole crossing his legs and raising his palm to silence her.

“Don’t even _try_ to deny it.”

“He doesn’t!” she insisted, twisting towards them. She paused a moment, the argument she was about to share dissipating in her throat as she reminisced on the afternoon she had spent with him at their corner in the library; how her heart had galloped, her blood coursing through her body, drumming noisily in her ears, each nerve ending fizzing excitedly because she though he was going to ask her.

“But just for a moment, I…” the words died in her throat. She shrugged, her shoulders rising to her ears and dropping in a dejected shrug as she smiled sadly at her friends. “I thought he was going to,” she admitted, turning from them sharply as they shared disbelieving glances.

“I knew it!” Diana cried excitedly. “I knew you liked him.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Cole laughed, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, Anne,” Ruby cooed, clasping her hands over her chest, a dreamy look to her eyes.

“Well, it’s not like it matters, is it?” she reasoned, her voice strained with forced laughter as she fumbled with her schoolbooks, attempting to appear unbothered. “He clearly _doesn’t_ feel the same way.”

“He does,” Cole sniped.

“He _doesn’t._ ”

Anne turned to them, her teeth biting into her bottom lip painfully as she attempted to quell a wobble of emotion. He had plenty of opportunities to ask her and he hadn’t; that wasn’t how you showed people you cared about them. He was probably just sore because she had been removed as an option for him if he couldn’t find anyone better to take as a date. Not that Anne cared of course. He could do whatever he liked. She had secured a date; she shouldn’t have to worry about him anymore.

But she did, imagining how he would react if he was to see her in the dress Marilla and Rachel were sewing for her. Would he look at her the way he did; that special look he saved just for her, like she stole the air from his lungs?

Marilla stepped away from Anne, tutting as she scrutinised a fold in the material.

“Turn for me,” she instructed and Anne rotated slowly, careful to not stumble from the unsteady footstool she had been forced on to by her mother, Marilla’s fussing hands arranging the full skirt around her. 

Marilla had drafted a dress from varying patterns she had kept and enlisted Rachel as assistant seamstress in the task, the three of them spending a sunny Saturday in Charlottetown, traipsing around the haberdasheries and buying metres of emerald green satin and beautiful, gauzy material embroidered in delicate green blooms and sequins that would be used as an overskirt, Marilla purchasing fine pins that wouldn’t tug at the material and spools of carefully matched thread, chattering animatedly about her plans for the dress.

Marilla and Rachel had commenced cutting material and stitching Anne’s dress weeks before, whispering conspiratorially about how long it would be until Anne would return from school or the Blythe house, her cheeks glowing as she informed them Gilbert Blythe had just asked her to prom. Marilla had known Gilbert was planning to ask Anne. John Blythe had told her himself, his voice low as he shared with her the details of the pep-talk he gave his son.

“He’s not confident, my Gilbert,” he disclosed, Marilla nodding sympathetically. “But he’s quite taken with your Anne.”

“Oh, we know that,” Marilla laughed. “He wears his heart on his sleeve. Not unlike someone else, as I recall.”

She had smiled pointedly at her old friend, the two of them reflecting on the fun they had as teenagers, attending their school dance together, their romance a whirlwind that fizzled out quickly when John left Avonlea to go to college.

She had hugged Anne close, Rachel cheering enthusiastically, when Anne had come home, mumbling that she had accepted a date to prom, her cheeks flushed with mortification.

“Well, it was only a matter of time,” Rachel exclaimed. “My, did he make us wait! Is there any wine? This calls for a celebratory glass.”

Rachel clambered to her feet slowly, lumbering around the room in search of a bottle of wine and some glasses, finding a bottle of white stored in the fridge.

“Cheers!” she cried, clinking her glass with those she had thrust into the hands of Anne and Marilla, Anne shifting awkwardly as they sipped at the crisp, fruity alcohol.

“How did he ask you?” she pried, eyeing Anne over the rim as Marilla forced Anne onto her stool.

“I don’t know,” Anne mumbled. “He just – asked.”

“He just _asked?_ ” she parroted incredulously. “That boy has been pining after you for years…”

“Rachel,” Marilla warned.

“…And he just _asked?”_

Anne chuckled loudly, glancing between her mother and aunt, her cheeks flaming red with embarrassment. “I don’t think he’s the _pining_ sort. Not for me, anyway.”

“Oh, pish posh,” Rachel harrumphed, Marilla shooting her a warning glance that silenced her.

They worked quietly after that, Rachel finishing hand-sewing strips of firm boning into the cupped bodice before passing it to Marilla who pinned it to the skirt, ensuring the seams matched and the material sat flush against Anne’s skin before she feed the layers of material through her sewing machine.

“Josie Pye’s dress has been imported from Paris,” Anne informed them as Marilla stabbed her waist with another pin. “Ouch!”

“Sorry,” Marilla mumbled, her measuring tape held in her teeth.

“That Josie Pye has more money than sense,” Rachel grumbled. “What is it made from that she couldn’t get here? The bones of Marie Antoinette?”

“Rachel,” Marilla scolded while Anne snorted a laugh.

“What?” Rachel asked, her voice laced with humour. “They all end up the same at the end of the night anyway.”

“Oh, yes?” Anne asked. “And how’s that?”

“On the floor,” Rachel quipped. Marilla sucked in a sharp gasp as Anne stilled on the top of the stool, her mouth gaping at what Rachel had just implied.

“You vulgar thing, you,” Marilla admonished as Rachel cackled wickedly.

“What?” she giggled. “Well you can’t sleep in it, can you?”

“That’s not what you meant and you know it!” Marilla cried.

“That _is_ what I meant, dear Marilla. It’s you that has your head in the gutter.”

Rachel turned to Anne; her face suddenly serious. “Now _you,_ young lady. All I expect to hear you got up to is a slow dance.”

Anne laughed. “You won’t even hear that,” she quipped. “I don’t know how to dance.”

“You don’t know how to… Why, what do they teach you in that school?”

“Oh, you know...Maths, science, English. All the unimportant stuff,” Anne laughed, rolling her eyes as Rachel’s widened in shock.

“Well, you’ll be expected to give your date a slow dance, of course!”

She clambered to her feet, beckoning Anne to step down from the stool. “Get down. Get down from there. If that school won’t teach you, I’ll teach you myself.”

She dragged Anne to her roughly. “Now, you put your hand here and I’ll put mine there and then you move. One, two, three. One, two, three.”

Anne and Rachel stumbled clumsily around the kitchen as Rachel counted out the steps, Anne stepping on Rachel’s toes awkwardly as Anne’s hand rested on Rachel’s back; Rachel’s on Anne’s shoulder.

“Oh,” Rachel gasped, as Anne tripped over the hem of her dress. “You’re a hopeless case!”

“And you’ve taught her the wrong dance,” Marilla chuckled, her hand smothering her laughter as Rachel forced Anne to twirl her. “She isn’t supposed to be leading.”

“Well, if you’re so great, why don’t you teach her,” Rachel grumbled.

“You know I have two left feet,” Marilla retorted.

“Well, thank you very much for your unsolicited opinion then. It was _completely_ unhelpful,” Rachel quarrelled, but a light knock silenced them, Rachel dropping Anne’s hand as they spun towards the kitchen door to see Gilbert Blythe standing in the door frame, his eyebrows raised comically as he took in the scene.

“I – The front door was open,” he stammered, a flush to his cheeks as his gaze scanned the room before resting on Anne. She felt herself blush, an explosion of goose bumps pebble her skin as he stared at her; his mouth falling open as he slowly traced over her full skirt, the material light and delicate, the sheer bodice that exposed flashes of creamy, freckled skin and a sweetheart neckline that emphasised the swell of her breasts. His hazel eyes met hers; his mouth snapping shut at a shrill shriek from Rachel.

“Gilbert Blythe!” Rachel cried as she hurried across the room, shooing him from the doorway and back into the hall. “Away from here, you scoundrel! It’s bad luck to see the dress before the big day.”

“It’s a prom dress, Rachel,” Marilla reminded her. “Not a wedding dress. I’m sure he can see her in it.”

“I’m not willing to take any chances.”

“It’s fine, Rachel,” Anne soothed, laughing awkwardly as Gilbert stumbled backwards. “I’m not going with him!”

Anne rolled her eyes animatedly, shaking her head as though even _considering_ going to prom with Gilbert was a completely ridiculous idea. Rachel ceased her admonishment of Gilbert, her body going completely still as she turned towards Anne, her eyes rounded with surprise.

“No, we’re not…Anne is,” Gilbert spluttered, his eyes trained on the toes of his Chucks. His hand brushed awkwardly at the back of his neck and he glanced up sheepishly, his eyes meeting Anne’s briefly before descending to his feet once more. “I’m not going to prom.”

“Not going?” Anne parroted, a dull ache in her chest as she witnessed a flicker of something she couldn’t identify cross his face. “Why aren’t you going?”

“I have other plans that night,” he explained with a casual shrug. Anne eyed him suspiciously, noticing his Adam’s apple bob in his throat and his fingers drumming restlessly against his thigh.

“Right.”

“So who is the lucky lad that’s taking our beautiful Anne, then?” Rachel demanded and Anne and Gilbert’s eyes connected briefly over the mess, Anne shifting uncomfortably under his gaze. He looked hurt, she thought, but he had no right to be. He had wounded her more than he knew.

“Roy Gardner,” Anne chirped brightly, forcing her features into a sunny grin.

“And who’s that if you’re writing home?” Marilla asked.

“He’s – he...” Anne felt her cheeks flame. How could she describe Roy Gardner? He was the most popular boy in school. He was handsome, dashing and debonair like a romantic hero brought to life. He was using her as a weapon against his ex-girlfriend. He wasn’t Gilbert Blythe. “He’s just a boy.”

“Just a boy,” Rachel laughed, swatting at Anne. “If he’s asked you to prom, then he must be more than _just a boy._ ”

She grabbed Gilbert’s arm, jerking him roughly towards Anne, forcing him before her.

“He may be _just a boy_ but he’ll still be expecting a dance,” she urged. “Good job you turned up when you did, Gilbert. I don’t have the energy for dancing anymore. I’m a much better coach.”

She raised Gilbert’s hand to Anne’s waist, two blotches of red colouring his cheeks as Rachel shoved him forward, so close his chest pressed to Anne’s.

“Rachel, you’re embarrassing them,” Marilla scolded.

“Not at all!” Rachel insisted. “It’s just a dance. Now, Anne, you put your hand on his shoulder and, goodness gracious, take her hand will you? She won’t bite.”

Gilbert laughed self-consciously, a sharp, breathy burst of laughter as he took Anne’s hand in his, their fingers tangling together. Anne felt her heart hammer against her ribs as Rachel prodded them to start moving, Gilbert smiling shyly with each misstep.

“One, two, three. One, two, three. Anne, he leads. Not you,” Rachel instructed as they stepped clumsily around the kitchen, Gilbert’s steps cumbersome as he spun them around the kitchen inelegantly.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he trod on the raw hem of Anne’s dress, the ripping sound of seams tearing audible.

“Oh, goodness, be careful of the dress,” Marilla cried, Gilbert dropping Anne’s hand as though he had been slapped as he stumbled from her.

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he rushed, his cheeks hot, tinged a bright, cherry red.

“Not to worry, dear boy.” Rachel clapped him on his back. “We’ll get Anne changed, have a nice cup of tea and then try again.”

“I – I really have to go.”

“Nonsense! You don’t want her to make a fool of herself, do you?”

Anne disappeared up the stairs, plodding back down them in her jeans and a flannel a few moments later as the teapot whistled on the stove.

“Tea?” Marilla asked Gilbert who sat nervously at the table, smiling sheepishly at Anne as she re-entered the room.

“Not for me, thanks,” he replied.

“Nor me,” Anne added.

“Suit yourselves.” Marilla poured out two steaming cups, passing one to Rachel. “Mrs Lynde, will we take our tea in the living room and give these young people a chance to catch up?”

Rachel agreed, feeling a softer seat would be much more comfortable for her back, leaving Anne and Gilbert alone in the kitchen.

“I’m sorry about…” Anne paused, reflecting on what had just happened; Gilbert forced around their kitchen with Anne in his arms. “That.”

“It’s fine.”

They shared a smile, Anne unsure what to say next. She had been angry at him the last time they spoke; unfairly so. If he didn’t feel for her like she did for him that wasn’t his fault. She couldn’t force his love.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” she began, but Gilbert held his hand up, silencing her apology.

“No, Anne, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Anne shook her head. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” she rushed.

“It’s not what I did and more what I should have done.”

Anne stared at him; swallowing nervously as she noticed him gaze at her, his eyes overflowing with something that she wanted to dive into, that lapped around her like gentle waves and swallowed her beneath the surface.

“What should you have done?” Her voice was breathy, light, almost inaudible over the chatter of the ladies next door.

“I should have…” He paused, his mind racing. Did he tell her the truth? Let her know he was trying to ask her; that he had been for weeks but was never brave enough. He inhaled deeply, counting in his head. Twenty seconds; that was all it took.

“Yes?”

He stared at her; a light furrow to her brow as she eyed him expectantly. He knew she had been excited for prom. He couldn’t drop his revelation on her; it would make her feel guilty for accepting someone else. It wouldn’t be fair.

“I should have given you a better dance,” he blurted, forcing a laugh as he gestured towards the spot they had spun on just ten minutes before.

“Oh.” Anne’s face fell, her features crumpling with disappointment. She had thought, just for a moment, that he was going to admit that he wished he had asked her; that what she was expecting from him earlier that day hadn’t been something she imagined before Roy interrupted them. She watched as his eyes fell to his hands, a grimace of disappointment flickering over his features.

Anne felt the need to cheer him up; to comfort him. Her hand shot out automatically, reaching for him and pulling him from his seat at the table.

“We can always try again,” she declared, laughing as she pulled him in.

He chuckled quietly as Anne took his hand in hers, Gilbert’s eyes dropping to their entangled fingers, squeezing Anne’s hand lightly, a small smile twisting his lips before his eyes raised to hers.

“But there’s no music.”

“You don’t need music to dance,” Anne laughed, her breath hitching in her throat as his eyes flickered between hers; warm and tender as he watched her. “Just bodies.”

Gilbert nodded slowly. “What do I do next?” he whispered, his voice low and rasping, and Anne took his free hand in hers, placing it against her waist.

“This goes here,” she instructed, “and I put this here.”

She slipped her hand up his arm, resting it eventually on Gilbert’s shoulder, a tingle of electricity trembling down her spin as he drew her closer; her skin burning where his hand trailed, stopping on her lower back, his hand splayed there, drawing her to him.

Anne glanced up to meet his eyes, her heart hammering as he lifted their hands, laying them against his chest.

“Now what do we do?” His voice was low and velvety, like music to Anne’s ears; his heart drumming beneath her hand the only beat she needed to dance to.

“We move,” she whispered and she swallowed as he began to turn them, spinning in a slow circle on the kitchen tiles, Anne’s body pressed close to Gilbert’s, his eyes locked on hers. They rotated slowly, like figures in a music box, Gilbert’s lips curving into a shy smile as he spun her under his arm, Anne twirling again and again until he drew her to him once more, Anne giggling as her body snapped back to him, so close that she could feel each muscle move under his thin t-shirt.

She felt her hand find his shoulder, moving higher until it located the back of his neck, her fingers threading into his dark curls and drawing his face closer to her, his forehead resting against hers, his breath hot on her cheek.

She watched his eyes flutter closed, her eyes tracing his features as they spun slowly; his lashes dark, sweeping against his high cheekbones, his mouth wide and tempting, that full bottom lip that she wanted to feel against hers, his strong jaw that led to that splendid chin.

She inhaled sharply, Gilbert’s eyes opening at the gasp, darkening as his gaze locked to hers. There was something about her eyes; something in them he had never noticed before; a magnetism that drew him closer, pulling him in like a whirlpool he would contentedly spin in forever.

He watched her eyes descend to his lips, his tongue darting out to wet them as her fingers teased his hair, drawing him closer to her.

“Anne…” he whispered, a gravel to his voice caused Anne to shiver, his eyes dropping to her bee stung lips.

 _Kiss me,_ Anne willed him. _Do it. Kiss me._

He inched forward, his eyes on Anne’s expectantly as though he was waiting for her to stop him but she didn’t. She was too lost in the magic of his eyes; a perfect mixture of mossy green and tree-bark brown, flecks of honey twinkling like gold glinting in the earth.

She felt her eyes flutter closed as he neared, revelling in the heat from his body and his breath, sweet and minty, as his bottom lip brushed hers lightly.

Gilbert felt her quiver beneath his hand, his skin searing where he touched her, a tingle to his lip as it ghosted over hers. _Twenty seconds of insane courage,_ he repeated. She could be his. All it took was a kiss.

He swallowed nervously, readying himself to claim her lips with his; pouring all his feelings for her into his kiss, when the heavy gait of Rachel Lynde thundered up the hallway, her loud voice cutting through the charged silence that swaddled the two figures in the kitchen, wrapping them in their own world; where it was just Anne and Gilbert and their racing hearts.

Gilbert dropped Anne’s hand hastily, extricating himself from her as Rachel stepped into the kitchen, followed closely by Marilla, a guilty look to his face as Rachel’s eyebrows rounded curiously.

Anne felt cold without him, a chill in her body without his warmth, the smooth muscle of his chest pressed to hers, his hot breath heating her skin, his lips brushing against hers…

“I have to go,” he announced loudly, stepping backwards and tripping over the stool. “Thank you for the dance, Anne.”

Anne nodded dumbly, watching as he hurried from the room, his head low.

“What in God’s name was happening in here?” Marilla asked and Anne shrugged nonchalantly, glancing between her mother and the doorway Gilbert had just disappeared through.

“It was just a dance,” she laughed flippantly.

But it felt like more than that. It felt like so much more.

**********

The day of prom arrived quickly, the weeks leading up to it a flurry of manicure appointments and hair trials, Ruby lamenting mournfully at the style her mother had twisted her hair into.

“I look like a peacock!” she cried, large tears rolling down her rounded cheeks as Diana and Anne smothered giggles behind their hands.

They had aided the prom committee in decorating the hall, Anne holding a string of warm white fairy lights at the foot of a ladder that Diana climbed cautiously, twisting the lights around the black beams that lined the school gym.

“Have you heard about Winnie?” Diana asked as Anne untangled a knot in the fine wire that strung the bulbs together.

“No,” she answered distractedly, tearing her hand away from the knot and harrumphing annoyedly as a bulb snagged her nail.

“Apparently she’s not going to prom,” Diana said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as she glanced behind her shoulder towards the other members of the prom committee.

“Not going?” Anne repeated dumbly. It didn’t make any sense. Winifred was the most popular girl in their school; she was beautiful and charming and recently single. Anne imagined the male population of Avonlea High would have been stumbling over each other to ask her to go to the dance with them.

“No,” Diana sighed. “It’s sad really. Apparently she’s still quite upset about everything that happened with Roy.”

Anne swallowed the gurgle of guilt that bubbled in her stomach, a mortified blush colouring her skin. She hated the thought of hurting Winnie, even if it was unintentional. She felt uncomfortable with the role she was taking in this love triangle; _the other woman._ The one who was in the way. She didn’t want it. She just wanted Gilbert.

“Poor Winnie,” Anne lamented as Diana clambered down the steps of the ladder, moving it under an undecorated beam and climbing back up again.

“I know,” Diana agreed. “What’s worse is she had asked Gilbert and he refused her.”

Anne’s head snapped upwards, ogling Diana with wide eyes. “She asked Gilbert?”

“Mmhmm,” Diana hummed, glancing at Anne as she wound another string of lights. “He didn’t tell you?”

Anne shook her head. Truthfully, it had been weeks since she had spoken to Gilbert, embarrassed by what had happened in her kitchen the day they danced together. He probably thought she was a wanton little fool, surrendering herself to him so completely, but she felt a rush of emotion for him, her blood coursing through her veins, her heart swelling with the love for him she stored in it, and she thought he felt it too. When they danced he had gazed at her, his eyes alight with something warm and tender that drew her in, his heartbeat rapid under her palm; romantical eyes, like two cups that overflowed with love for her.

But she had been wrong. He was embarrassed to be caught with her, leaving her house without a second glance, and she hadn’t seen him since, her hurt feelings forcing her to avoid him; to avoid confronting what had happened between them in the kitchen in case she had misunderstood.

Instead, she had spent more time with Cole, Diana and Ruby, helping her friends select their prom dresses. She stood patiently on the stool top as Rachel and Marilla completed her gown. She volunteered with the prom committee, scaling ladders to hang deep blue velvet curtains above the windows, the thick material blocking out the natural daylight and casting the room into darkness. She hung golden streamers that were meant to emulate shooting stars in the sky and she placed tables, heaving the heavy furniture across the floor and positioning them along the walls. She stood patiently with Diana, her foot on the bottom rung of the ladder to steady it as Diana hung string lights until the whole gym twinkled with a warm golden glow that mimicked the stars in the sky on a clear night, the velvet material shimmering under the glittering bulbs.

And when all the preparation for prom was complete, she spent her free time reading under the large elm tree on the school grounds, avoiding the library and the cosy corner table she shared with Gilbert. The closer prom crept, the more she wished to avoid him, the prospect of spending such a special night with someone else unbearable to her aching heart.

She sighed as she sat at her dressing table, her chin propped in her hand as she watched Marilla brushing her hair in the reflection, the bristles smoothing her long red locks.

“You have your ticket?” Marilla quizzed.

“Yes.”

“And your shoes?”

“Yes.”

“And you gave Roy a time to pick you up?”

“7.30,” Anne rhymed, “to leave us enough time for pictures.”

“Perfect.”

Marilla beamed at her in the mirror, lifting a hot curling wand from the tabletop and winding a large strand of Anne’s hair around it, careful not to tug.

“Are you excited?” she asked, releasing the curl and holding it until it cooled, before taking another strand and beginning the process again.

“I guess,” Anne said with a shrug.

“You guess? Well, that doesn’t sound very promising.”

Anne laughed lightly. “I’m excited to spend time with my friends,” she explained before hesitating, the smile on her pretty face faltering. “I just wish Gilbert was going.”

She shot Marilla a sad smile through the mirror and Marilla nodded, pursing her lips as she ringleted another section of hair, pondering on her daughter’s admission. Marilla was aware of Anne’s feelings for Gilbert, never missing a longing gaze or fleeting touch they shared, both blushing furiously afterwards, but she sometimes felt her daughter was her own worst enemy; her and Gilbert dancing around each other in an attempt to bypass what was between them instead of confronting their feelings face on. It would be scary and uncertain, opening their heart to the other and allowing the contents to spill free, but all it took was one brief moment of bravery, to reach for each other’s hands and not let go. They would both be so much happier for it.

“So do I,” Marilla admitted, twisting Anne’s curls into a half up, half down style which flattered her long hair, soft tendrils framing her face. “For your sake.” She dropped a gentle kiss to Anne’s head. “But you will have a wonderful night whether he is there or not.”

“You’ll have Diana and Jerry,” she prattled as she moved across the room towards Anne’s dress that hung against the door of the wardrobe. “And Cole. You always have so much fun with him. And you’ll look absolutely beautiful.” She smiled softly as she unzipped the dress she had so lovingly crafted. “You’ll be the bell of the ball.”

She glanced up to Anne who sat at her dressing table, her body twisted towards Marilla, although she didn’t appear to be listening. She picked at her neatly painted nails as she stared at the floorboards, her bottom lip worrying between her teeth.

“Cheer up, Anne,” Marilla cooed. “It’s only one night. You’ll leave school in a few weeks and it will all be a distant memory. It won’t matter who was there and who wasn’t.”

“But it matters now.”

“And you agreed to go with Roy. Now chin up. Let’s get you ready for a night of fun.”

Anne stepped into her dress, Marilla fastening the concealed zipper that was hidden along the side seam and arranging Anne’s hair over her shoulders, where it fell in thick waves of fire.

“Now,” she gushed, taking Anne’s shoulders in her hands and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. The most beautiful young lady Avonlea has been home to. Both inside and out.”

She cupped Anne’s cheek gently, Anne pressing into her hand as she took in her reflection; gold eye shadow emphasising her large blue eyes, her hair falling in soft curls around her round face, her body encased in the most beautiful dress she had ever owned; sumptuous green satin brushing against her skin, the sheer floral embroidered bodice emphasising her waspish waist, the delicate over skirt floating elegantly over the floorboards, creating a satisfying _swish_ as she twirled. She felt pretty in it; graceful and beautiful, but her heart ached as she thought of Gilbert; imagining his reaction when he seen her in it like this; his eyes trailing over her slowly, his fingers looping into her long hair, twisting a curl around a single digit as he smiled at her softly, whispering to her how beautiful he thought she looked.

She shook her head sharply, dispelling the thought. She couldn’t think of him tonight; instead she would focus on Roy and her friends, allowing him to hold her close when they danced, clapping enthusiastically when he won prom king.

She was _excited;_ she told herself as she forced a sunny smile. But she knew it was a lie.

“Are you ready?” Marilla asked. “He’ll be here any moment.”

Anne nodded, taking a final look at herself in the mirror before she left, following Marilla down the stairs where Matthew and Rachel waited, Matthew springing to his feet, his kind eyes watery as Anne entered the room.

“Look at you,” he breathed, moving to her and pressing a whiskery kiss to her temple. “A vision in green! You’re not my little girl anymore.”

“I’ll always be your little girl,” Anne argued, laughing lightly as Rachel pushed him aside.

“Dear Anne, what a vision!” she cried, dragging her in for a hug. “We’ll get some photos of you alone before he arrives,” she declared.

Anne was posed in the living room; before the fireplace, in the armchair by the window, standing by the doorway, on the stairs, her head turned to look over her shoulder towards the camera as her hand rested lightly on the banister.

“No more until Roy arrives,” she insisted with a laugh, her cheeks already sore from false smiles.

“He’s late,” Marilla observed, glancing at the clock on the mantlepiece. “He was meant to be here a half an hour ago.”

“He’s probably just gotten caught up with something,” Anne answered, a sunny smile on her face to disguise the embarrassment she felt. Marilla valued punctuality. Anne knew Roy had already made a bad first impression with her mother and he was yet to meet her.

“I’ll put the kettle on while we wait,” Rachel suggested, filling the kettle with water as Anne settled at the kitchen table to wait for Roy.

And she waited.

And waited.

And waited.

She waited as the minutes turned into an hour and an hour turned into two hours, her fingers drumming restlessly, her skin flushed with embarrassment as Marilla and Matthew eyed her sympathetically over their third cup of tea, nodding slowly as Anne insisted they wait just a little longer. He would arrive; he had to. He had no-one else to go with.

When the hand on the clock ticked slowly towards ten, Anne slowly unfurled her fingers from the fists she had clenched them into, the skin on her palms welted with angry red marks shaped like crescent moons where her fingernails dug painfully into her skin.

“I’m going to get changed,” she announced and Marilla’s lips curved into a sympathetic smile.

“I’m sorry, Anne.”

“Not to worry. I didn’t really want to go with him anyway.”

Anne left the room, her cheeks flaming with humiliation at the hushed whispers she could hear from her family in the kitchen.

“I swear, I’ll kill him,” Marilla muttered angrily.

“Now, now, Marilla. He must have his reasons,” Matthew reasoned but Rachel cut him off with a loud scoff.

“His reason is he’s a horrible cad,” she huffed. “Poor little mite. I’m sure she’s in floods of tears already.”

Anne wasn’t upset; she was embarrassed. And she was angry; _furious_ in fact. He had asked her; she was doing _him_ a favour and he stood her up. Completely unreachable; each text message ignored, each phone call going straight to voicemail.

She rounded the staircase, trudging heavily up the first two steps before something stopped her; a flicker of a shadow against the wall.

Anne turned towards the door in search of the source of the shadow, her head swivelling towards the door at the sound of a knock; a soft _tap, tap, tap._

**********

Gilbert sat in the passenger seat of his father’s car, smiling softly as he listened to his father sing along with Neil Diamond, his eyes fixed out of the window as he watched the flashes of neon signs illuminate pub windows and the yellow glow of streetlights pass by.

He had woken up that morning in a foul mood, his blood bubbling with something noxious; disgusting jealously slowly sludging through his body, curdling his blood until he felt as though his insides were toxic; filled with a thick, black poison, like crude oil pulsing through him.

He snapped at his dad, stormed around the house like a thunder cloud and grumbled when Bash arrived, holding two ties aloft and asking which he preferred. He didn’t mean to take his foul mood out on those he cared about but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stop thinking about Anne and Roy; his treacherous mind conjuring images of Anne slipping into her stunning green dress, breathless with excitement as she waited for Roy to arrive. Of his hand low on her back as they grinned for photographs, his skin brushing hers as he slipped a corsage on her wrist; something delicate and feminine, maybe a rose or an orchid. He imagined Roy dancing with her under the twinkling lights in the gymnasium, tilting her chin upwards and kissing her like he should have done a few weeks before when he danced with her in the kitchen, missing his chance once again; something in her eyes that reassured him that she wanted him as much as he needed her. That if had kissed her, she wouldn’t have pulled away but melted into him, allowing him to envelope her with his embrace.

Gilbert glanced at the clock as he ate dinner with his father, noting the time and wondering what Anne was doing at that very moment. 5.30. She was probably sitting by her dressing table, staring dreamily at her reflection as she fixed her hair; maybe pinning it up into a high bun, or leaving it spilling down her back in thick curls like he loved it, the rich, red waves enticing him to trail his fingers through it.

“Cheer up, Gil.” John smiled, patting his son’s hand lightly. “Me and you, we’ll have some fun this evening.”

And as the day continued, Gilbert found that he was having fun; spending the evening on a picnic blanket at the outdoor cinema in the park, watching _Back to the Future_ with his father, sharing cool cans of _Coke_ that his father had packed, Gilbert munching on popcorn as he quoted his favourite lines, John grinning at him in the dimming light of the day.

“I’m glad to see a smile on your face again,” he shouted over the din of _Huey Lewis and the News_ and the murmuring voices of the groups of people scattered on the grass around them.

The film ended just as the sky turned black and Gilbert and John packed up their blanket and cool box, walking slowly through the crowd of people to reach their car before John drove them back towards home.

Gilbert loved spending time with John. They always had fun together, but as they drove back to their dark house, a long night stretching ahead of him, Gilbert felt the warm glow of the evening he spent with his father dissipate.

“Sweet Caroline! Dah, dah, dah,” John sang as he indicated into their street. “Aren’t you going to sing, Gil?”

“Not tonight, Dad,” he laughed. He wasn’t in the mood for singing. He was in the mood for going to his room and lying on his bed in the dark; allowing himself to indulge in thoughts of Anne again; his mind berating him for his cowardice as he stared at the ceiling above his bed.

“Just as well,” John laughed. “We all know I’m the better singer anyway.”

Gilbert sniggered a laugh as they pulled into the drive, the hum of the car ceasing as John pulled the keys from the ignition.

“Fancy watching something?” John asked as they paced up the driveway towards the house. “We could start _Game of Thrones?”_

“No, I think I’m going to turn in for an early night.”

John nodded curtly, eyeing Gilbert from the corner of his eye. His son had been moody and miserable all day, his mind elsewhere; filled with thoughts of Anne and the fun she would be having with someone who wasn’t him. John imagined he would probably have wished sleep to claim him too; for the day to end and a fresh one to begin.

“Suit yourself,” he answered brightly, his key finding the lock in the door and twisting as Gilbert’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He reached his hand in, pulling the phone from inside and frowning as he noticed Bash’s name flash on the screen, his stomach suddenly dropping.

Why was he phoning him tonight? he wondered, jabbing at the answer button and hoping that it was a mistake. It was just a pocket dial and there was nothing to worry about.

“Bash?” Gilbert asked urgently. “What’s happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Blythe. Calm down,” Bash chuckled. “I’ve got some news.”

Gilbert’s brow furrowed, his eyes meeting his father’s, who eyed him quizzically. “What kind of news.”

“ _Somebody_ has just been crowned prom king,” Bash began.

Gilbert rolled his eyes. “We were expecting that,” he laughed breathily.

“Listen to me a minute,” Bash interrupted. “He was asked to dance with his date afterwards and guess what?”

Gilbert wasn’t sure where this conversation was going but he knew he felt nervous, his stomach twisted into a tight knot.

“What?” he breathed.

“He danced with Winnie.”

“Winnie?”

“Winnie. I’ve asked around and nobody has seen Anne all night.”

“They haven’t se…” Gilbert’s voice trailed off, his mind slotting together shreds of information, piecing together like a puzzle. Roy was at prom without Anne. That could only mean one thing. “He stood her up,” he whispered.

“You know what to do.”

The line went dead, Gilbert staring at the screen as his body fizzled with fury and disbelief and a desperate need to see her.

“Twenty seconds of courage, Gilbert. That’s all you need,” John stated, smiling encouragingly at his son. “Just literally twenty seconds of embarrassing bravery. And I promise you, something great will come of it. Now go,” John insisted. “Go and see her now.”

Gilbert nodded decisively. He had to see her. He had to tell her tonight.

He turned sharply on his heel, bounding down the steps from the porch and racing down the path, his feet pounding on the pavement, his lungs burning as he gasped for air, running through the still streets of Avonlea, weaving past late-night dog walkers and light night-time traffic, his feet not stopping until he reached the gate of Green Gables, a warm glow in the hallway.

He hesitated for a moment, allowing himself to catch his breath before he pushed through the gate and stumbled forward, up the cobbled path and skipping the steps leading to the porchway.

He raised his hand, his heart hammering in his chest as he rapped it against the door.

_Tap, tap, tap._

And he waited, counting seconds in his head.

***********

Anne paused on the stairs, eyeing the silhouette outlined in the porchlight, something familiar about the slope to the shoulders and the curliness to the hair that propelled her forward, down one step and then another, her stomach a flurry of butterflies as she strode across the hall and threw the door open to reveal Gilbert.

“Anne…” he gasped, his breath catching in his throat as he drank her in; still dressed in her prom dress, the rich, emerald green emphasising her creamy, freckled skin.

“Gil? What are you doing here?”

Gilbert stilled, frozen in place by the vision that stood before him; a woodland fairy in a gauzy green dress, her hair like tongues of fire licking against her skin. He felt his breath catch in his throat as his eyes met hers, her brow furrowed in confusion as she stared back.

“Gilbert, why are you here?” she pressed, her voice dropping to a whisper as she glanced over her shoulder towards the kitchen, stepping out onto the porch and shutting the door behind her to ensure her family wouldn’t hear the intruder and come out to the hallway to investigate.

Gilbert took a deep breath. All it took was twenty seconds. _One, two, three, four, five…_

“Go to prom with me,” he blurted. Anne recoiled with surprise.

“Go to prom with you?” she repeated. “Gilbert, I’m tired. I – It’s been a long day…”

“Please, Anne,” he pleaded, taking her hand in his. She stared at him; his eyes searching hers before descending briefly on her lips. She felt her heart race, watching as his hand raised slowly, a strand of flame red hair coiling around his finger.

“Gil, it’s late,” she argued weakly.

“I know. I know it’s late and I know I should have asked sooner but Anne, I want to take you to prom. I want to dance with you and I want to walk you home and kiss you on this very porch, and…”

Anne surged forward, pushing herself onto her tiptoes as she pressed her lips to his in a kiss, Gilbert’s eyes going wide with shock. She pulled away, flushing with embarrassment at his reaction. She was sure he would have kissed her back; that he had wanted to kiss her too. He had just admitted to it.

“What was that for?” he asked breathily, his hand brushing against his lips, the skin tingling where her mouth had been.

“I wanted you to ask me,” she admitted. “I had only ever wanted to go with you.”

“Really?”

Anne nodded, laughing lightly at his earnest expression; his eyes bright, glittering like stars as his face split into a broad grin. “Really.”

He laughed breathily, drawing her to him again, his head ducking to meet hers, their mouths slotting together into a searing kiss; his lips soft under Anne’s as his hands wound around her waist, drawing her to him, her chest pressed to his as she stood on tiptoe, her fingers curled into his hair, cradling his head to her. Anne could feel his heartbeat race beneath his shirt as he deepened the kiss, his hands splaying against her back as he leant into her, swallowing Anne’s sigh with his mouth. Their insistent lips slowed into a gentle kiss, Gilbert breathless as they broke apart. He dropped his forehead to Anne’s, his cheeks flushed and his eyes dancing, his lips swollen and pink.

“Anne Shirley-Cuthbert,” he whispered, his voice low and velvety, sending a thrill up Anne’s spine.

“Yes?”

“May I have this dance?”

He reached his hand out to her, Anne placing her’s into his grasp gently, his fingers curling around her hand as he led her down the steps and onto the lawn.

He drew her to him, his hands finding her lower back again as Anne’s fingers tangled in his hair, Gilbert spinning them slowly, the grass dew damp underfoot.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered as he spun her under his arm, drawing him close to her again.

“Thank you.”

She smiled at him in the chilly evening air, although the glow of love in his eyes and his strong arms around her waist warmed her, her heart swelling as he pulled her closer to him again, Anne’s hand finding his heart once more, enjoying the feel of his steady heart beat under her palm.

Anne glanced upwards towards the deep blue sky, silver stars winking at them from the heavens. She lowered her gaze to Gilbert, her head nestling against his shoulder as they twirled under the night sky.

A night under the stars _,_ just as they had been promised. 

**Author's Note:**

> And there we have it!
> 
> It's a short little story and I hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> A few notes to include:  
> 1\. Yes, Anne's prom dress was based of Amybeth's green dress for the CSAs that we never got to see her in. I thought I would write it into this fic instead.  
> 2\. If you haven't seen it before, I highly recommend 'We Bought a Zoo', the true story of Benjamin Mee who's beautiful words inspired this fic. It made me weep like a baby and it's so beautifully life affirming. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, beautiful souls who persisted to the end.  
>   
> I haven't written a one shot before, so if you have any comments or feedback, feel free to share!  
>   
> Come find me on my socials if you wish:  
> Twitter: @chaos_in_calm  
> Tumblr: @beckybubbles
> 
> Thanks again!
> 
> Becky x


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